Change
by GwendolynWrites
Summary: Neville Longbottom has always been invisible, now he's determined to make people notice him. Longer summary inside. Neville/Blaise minor Harry/Draco. MxM if that upsets you don't read.
1. From top to bottom

**Change**

**Summary: **Neville Longbottom has always been invisible, constantly ignored and overlooked. But in his 7th year at Hogwarts he is determined to make that change. Neville is in for a confusing and eye opening final year at Hogwarts as he discovers things about himself and those around him that he never knew. Neville/Blaise and minor Harry/Draco. Slight Ron/Hermione/Dumbledore bashing.

**Chapter 1:** From top to bottom

Neville Longbottom had perfected one thing in his life, being invisible; the ability to be completely unnoticeable. He was so good that half the time people didn't realise he was next to them until he purposefully drew attention to himself and scared the living daylights out of them. Generally he didn't mind being unnoticed, he immersed himself in Herbology or something similar that didn't involve others. Sometime though, it hurt. Like someone had simultaneously punched him in the stomach as they dug a knife into his chest. He hated the feeling and when it came there was no way of getting rid of it, he is forced to wait it out. He would be sitting in the common room or a class and it would suddenly come upon him and he would be forced to stare at his hands, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, until it passed and he could breathe again. He figured it was just his body's way of reminding him that he was alone. In case he forgot. Like he ever could.

Neville never set out to be invisible it just happened that way. As a baby he was sent to live with his grandmother, a loving but stern woman, after the incapacitation of his parents. But there were very few children in the area and any cousins were either older or lived too far away. So Neville learnt to play on his own. Sometimes his grandmother would join him but mostly she was too old, too tired. She had already raised three sons and a daughter. She had lost a brother and husband to the war against Grindlewald. She had lost a son and a daughter-in-law to the war against Lord Voldermort. She had lost a sister and daughter to an incurable magical defect. And now she was, after all this, given a baby boy to raise. A baby boy she would have to take to the hospital to visit his comatose parents. A baby boy she would have to explain why his parents wouldn't wake up to. Sometimes she was just too tired. So Neville, though not unloved, had a fairly quiet and solitary childhood.

When he was finally on his was to Hogwarts he was so excited; so many other children to meet, so many potential friends. He was so nervous he accidentally lost Trevor the toad. Then he was sorted into Gryffindor, his father's old house, and he was so happy that he spent the rest of the night with his head up in the clouds. This was his chance to live up to all the great stories he had heard about his father's school days. But at the same time he was not use to so many children, all yelling and laughing and teasing and bullying each other. He was at the rowdiest table in the hall and he didn't know what to do. So he reverted back to the manners his grandmother had instilled in him for formal occasions. But his quiet voice was lost in the roar and the manners which stopped him from interrupting people meant he never got to speak. So when he did finally get a chance and all those expectant faces turned towards him he became so nervous he turned red and stuttered. Then bit by bit Neville found himself being pushed from conversations. His year level split into friendship groups and he realised he wasn't part of any of them. The Gryffindors became the Golden Trio of Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the two pair of Dean and Seamus, who balanced each other perfectly, and Lavender and Pavati, who were more interested in gossip and fashion than school work. Neville did not fit anywhere. He had missed his chance to make a good first impression and had faded into obscurity.

His complete lack of confidence and ability in most of his classes, particularly potions, only made matters worse. Professors became frustrated and gave up, expecting the bare minimum and sometimes not even that from him. Success at anything was seen as either a fluke or a small miracle. He was overshadowed by his classmates and delegated to the back of the room, quickly forgotten.

Thankfully, time was partially kind to Neville. His grades, through hard studying, picked up until he was mediocre and could thus be forgotten by the professors. He became any other student in the room, receiving no special attention from the professors, except for Herbology in which he excelled. The close groupings in the house also dispersed slightly due to fighting and inter-group dating. Neville became another regular friend who they sat with at meals, in classes or in the common room; another one of the Gryffindor group when it came to Hogsmede trips. The occasional pain became even less frequent, only hitting him during the holidays. Because as well as he and his fellow classmates got on it was a school based friendship and nothing more. He did not write to them and they did not write to him unless it was necessary such as for a birthday or details on a holiday assignment. There were no questions, when school started again, about why he hadn't been in touch; instead it just picked up where it left off as those the holidays were no more than a weekend. Similarly they did not get together, did not stay over each others houses or come over for meals. The only time he would see them was if he ran into them on Diagon alley when they were all buying school supplies.

This was the pattern for years and Neville didn't mind, he was quite content, he had friends when he was at school and peace and quite when he was home. The only thing that ever irritated him was that in people's minds he was always the same blushing, stuttering, chubby first year. So when something changed people didn't seem to notice. Maybe that's why he decided to do it; he was determined to change what people saw, to make them finally notice him.

It was the summer before 7th year and Neville had been working for the local gardening nursery. He had been working there every holiday since he had first struck upon his Herbology skills, it kept him busy and paid quite well. He had just over a week before he had to return to Hogwarts so it was time to hand in his gloves and put his plan into action. He had saved the money he had earned there, with the exception of a small amount which went to Hogsmede weekends, and was determined to spend it. On the one thing he had never bothered with before, his looks. He felt ridiculously vain just thinking about it but looking down at his worn jeans and dirty sneakers he realised it may be time to change. And if his plan was to get people to notice him it seemed like a god place to start. He decided to work systematically starting from the top and working his way down.

'The bowl cut has to go,' the hairdresser decided 'the colour is good but the cut is definitely a no.' Neville's hair had never really left its bowl like shape, just gotten longer. It was, however, a nice colour, a medium brown with natural light brown, almost blond, streaks that came as a result of working outdoors. An hour or so later Neville's hair fell to the top of his ears and almost into his eyes in a ruffled spiky look, like he had just woken up or come from the beach. He liked it.

Next step was the clothes. It took the help of three floor staff and the occasional random customer who felt like joining in to get Neville a complete set of new clothes. He now had t-shirts, button downs, short sleeve, long sleeve, jeans, shorts, dress pants, jumpers, jackets and other random items that didn't look as though they had been picked out by his grandmother. He had to wince at how much he was spending but quickly got over it, it was his money and this is what he wanted. He moved on to shoes. A few pairs of sneakers, dress shoes, casual shoes and chucks later Neville was ready to collapse. Bags upon bags upon bags surrounded him and he felt like his arms and legs were trying to tear themselves from his body. He was more than ready to go home, mission accomplished. Gathering his bags he felt like he was living a bad 90s shopping montage. He was almost at the tube station when he paused at a shop. Judging by the moving photos in the window it was a magical store, not surprising since he was on the border of where the magical community started in the city. Pushing his way in Neville realised it was a tattoo and piercing parlour. A small grin found its way onto his face.

'Can I help you?' the guy standing behind the counter asked, sizing Neville up. The guy was slightly taller than him and maybe 20 years older. He had a series of piercing up and down his ears and a few tattoos peaked out from the edges of his shirt sleeves and collar. Neville felt a nervous blush start up but quickly quashed it and squared his shoulders.

'Yeah, you do piercing right?' he asked meeting the guys eyes. The man cracked a grin.

'That we do. Thinking of anything in particular?' the man asked. Neville paused frowning.

'I don't know,' with a sheepish look he said 'lots?' The man nodded slowly.

'Do you know what a muggle is?' he asked. Neville looked confused.

'As in a non-magical person?' he responded.

'Just checking, sometimes the wards slip and a muggle gets in. Can be a right mess cause we use healing charms and the like here not to mention specialised tattoos that move or change colour. So where were you thinking?' the man said leading Neville over to a chair.

'Not anywhere…uh' he trailed of with a slight blush.

'Ok,' the man laughed 'so face? Hmm, Ears? Lip? Nose? Tongue? Eyebrow? Cheeks? You are over 17 right?' he asked handing Neville a form

'Oh yeah.' he said. It was a waiver, I am legal, I consent, the parlour is not responsible for adverse reaction blah blah. Neville signed and it disappeared with a small pop.

'Right then…' the man trailed off, lifting an eyebrow.

'Neville. Neville Longbottom' he supplied.

'Right then Neville, my names Russ. Made a decision yet?' Neville bit his lip and nodded slowly.

'Um ears, a few,' he made a vague gesture towards Russ' ears to signal what he was talking about 'and ah, maybe eyebrow and um tongue' he finished with an unsure look. Russ gave him a reassuring smile.

'Relax kiddo, everything's spelled, the piercing gun makes a noise but you shouldn't feel a thing, same with the normal needles.' While he explained what was going to happen and what Neville would need to do to look after them he cleaned and marked all the places with a pen to make sure they were lined up.

'Ok, so there are two in each ear lobe, I'll use the gun for that and one in the right upper ear, I have to use a needle for that, that ok?' he asked and Neville nodded 'and then the left eyebrow and I'll do your tongue last, I have to use a needle for those two. They're all stainless steel balls, less chance of a bad reaction. You still with me kiddo?' Neville took a deep breathe and gave Russ a weak smile. Russ nodded and set up what he needed. True to his word Neville didn't feel any pain when Russ used the piercing gun on his ear lobes, a slight pressure and a loud noise but nothing else and after the healing charm his ears didn't feel that different. The only terrifying part was seeing the needles that were going to be used on his upper ear, eyebrow and tongue. When Russ stepped back after piercing his upper ear Neville let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding. This got a small chuckle from Russ and Neville felt the blood once again rush up to his cheeks. He kept his eyes closed for the next two simply following Russ' instructions on when to relax his face or stick out his tongue. Shortly after he felt a pat on his shoulder and realised that it was all over. Russ was grinning down at him with an amused look on his face.

'All done kiddo' Neville scrunched up his nose, he couldn't feel the one's in his ear very well but his eyebrow felt weird and he could feel the ball in his mouth.

'Thanks' he frowned, talking felt weird and if he pushed his tongue forwards far enough he could feel it clink against the back of his teeth.

'You'll get use to it; just remember to look after them and owl the shop if anything goes wrong.' Neville smiled and after paying and hefting all his bags once more headed off to the tube station. A minute later a grin spread across his face. His grandmother was going to freak.


	2. Train rides and toast

**Notes:** So you know where we are in the books, the sixth and seventh book (both of which I didn't really like) didn't happen. The fifth book did happened, Sirius died etc. but Neville didn't know about it and didn't fight the good fight with them. If you have a problem with this, write your own fan fiction.

**Chapter 2:**Train rides and toast

Neville was right, his Gran did freak. Not that you could tell if you didn't know her. She didn't yell or scream or flail her arms about. Instead, she went very still, her eyes narrowed, her posture stiffened and she drew in a long breath through her nose and held it. Neville shakes just thinking about it and now he was face to face with it and it terrified him. She had frozen the second he had walked in the door, first taking in the new clothes, then the hair before fastening in on the silver adorning his face and ears.

Neville drew a fortifying breath before raising his chin and staring defiantly into his grandmothers eyes.

Augusta Longbottom carefully examined her grandson and her options. She stomped down on the urge to demand he remove them, he was 17 now, a legal adult. Looking him hard in the eyes she realised she had no desire to fight him over them anyway. It had all drained from her when she saw the look in his eyes, confidence. Neville hadn't looked this confident since he had made pancakes without setting anything on fire when he was 12. It may not be a big deal but Neville was willing to stand up for himself to keep them. The proud tilt of his jaw made him look so much like his father. Augusta mentally conceded defeat, but she wasn't going down without a rule or two.

Neville was internally shaking. It was taking all his energy not to drop his eyes are run from the room. His Gran was just staring, hard. She wasn't speaking, she wasn't moving, hell, Neville wasn't even sure she was breathing. It was unnerving him more than Professor Snape.

'They will be removed when there are guests in the house.' She finally said, releasing the breath she had been holding.

Neville's knees almost gave out with relief and a smile broke out across his face. His Gran had accepted them, his new look. She normally had this view that people with piercings, excluding females with the traditional hole in each lobe, and people with tattoos were all criminals and ruffians. Not that Neville was entirely sure what a ruffian was. Still he didn't want her to think he was one.

It was then that Augusta decided a few scraps of metal were worth putting up with if it caused her grandson to smile like that.

It took Neville a while to get use to his new look. Each night he would wake up wondering what was poking him in the face or head before realising it was just one of his piercings. Each morning he would reach for his old jeans before remembering his new ones. Each meal he would unintentionally try and swallow his tongue ring or get food caught on it. But slowly he got use to them and sleeping so they weren't poking him or pulling on his new clothes or talking without weird noises became second nature. In the end it didn't feel like a whole lot had changed. Except for the looks, Neville was still tyring to get use to the looks. The first time he went out in his new stuff he just went to the local store. It took him a few minutes before he realised that the friendly girl behind the counter was actually flirting with him. He was so surprised he only managed to mumble something illogical and all but run from the store. He noticed it a lot after that. Not that it happened anymore than was normal but the occasional look, wink or flirtation was so unusual to Neville he didn't know how to respond. Mainly because no one at Hogwarts had ever hit on him and he had never had the courage to hit on someone else.

So of course Neville didn't see what the girl behind the counter or the random passer by saw. The way he saw himself was about as wrong as the Hogwarts students who still saw him as the bumbling first year. In reality Neville had grown up and matured, physically at least. Regular exercise had shed the last of the 'baby fat' which had clung to him. Working outdoors had lightly tanned his skin. Puberty had hit and his voice had dropped, not to mention he had finally grown to a respectable height and his shoulders had broadened. He wasn't quite there but he had nearly grown into his ears and teeth which had always looked too big on his childhood body. All round Neville had grown into an attractive young man, not that he or anyone at Hogwarts had noticed. But that was about to change.

The trip to Kings Cross station was quiet. Neville was in a high state of anxiety, it was one thing to act confident when it was only him and his grandmother but it was another when facing a group of your peers. He had decided to keep it simple today, not only for comfort but because he still wasn't fond of drawing attention to himself. So he wore a pair of jeans and chucks, a blue shirt with a black pattern across the chest and small muted black piercings which were partially obscured by his hair. He had gone, a day or two after his big shopping trip, back into London to both muggle and magical shops to buy a variety of earrings and what not. He now had a collection that ranged from the conventional such as the small black ones he was wearing to the ostentatious such as a series of piercings intricately designed in elfin silver and a pair of lions that, accompanied by other red and gold piercings, he could wear for Quidditch matches.

The platform was bustling as always with weepy parents and embarrassed children. He could see the large gathering of red hair at one end, on time for once, and shinning blond at the other. It was weird, Neville thought, how different families can be. The Weasley matriarch was smothering everyone in kisses and hugs, barking instructions and wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. Malfoy's mother, however, smiled thinly at her son, gave him a stiff hug and kiss on the cheek before floating off to talk to, what he assumed, was another Slytherin students mother.

His own grandmother laid a hand on his shoulder, though she now had to reach up slightly to do it. With a warm hug and a few encouraging words she pushed him off towards the train. Watching the other families he wondered what his parents would think of his new look, or of him in general. He visited them a few times in the holidays but they are always either asleep or heavily medicated. Either way they don't know who he is.

Neville pulled himself from his depressing thoughts and began searching the train for his fellow Gryffindors. Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't on the train yet, still outside being fussed over by Mrs Weasley no doubt, but Dean and Seamus were. They had taken over one of the magically expanded carriages at the back. They gave him a warm welcome before continuing on with the conversation they had been having prior to his entry. A short while later the last of the students were scrambling onto the train as it pulled from the station and their carriage was packed with 8 students; a tight squeeze, even for the magical compartments. Ron, Harry and Hermione had joined them, as had Ginny and Luna, something they had started doing last year for reasons that were beyond Neville. They would disappear in a few hours to go see their sixth year friends. General summer conversation flowed as Hermione explained her exciting trip to Spain and Luna gave an baffling account of going _Pan __Chiroptodyte_ spotting with her father. Neville felt himself sink back into his usual Hogwarts behaviour, silent with the occasional laugh or input that usually went unnoticed. No one noticed anything new about him. By the time they reached Hogwarts he was thoroughly depressed. Ginny and Luna had left a few hours in, Dean had fallen asleep and Seamus had gone to speak to a few of his Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw friends, Harry and Ron played exploding snap before having a confusing and disjointed conversation that he was sure they were both partially asleep for and Hermione had, surprise surprise, read a book. Other than saying hi to a few people he knew from other houses and reading a Herbology book Neville was bored out of his mind for most of the trip and had worked himself in to a right state. He made it through the sorting, welcomed the new students and picked listlessly at his food before crawling into bed and cursing everything around him.

Blaise Zabini had a boring summer. He was forced to attend boring dinner parties and afternoon teas with families he didn't like, all of whom pushed their obnoxious daughters on him in the hopes that he would find one of them attractive enough to marry. The only saving grace is that some of his fellow Slytherins' were at them as well and were forced to endure the same hell. Mainly he and Draco would foster whatever irritating debutant had been thrust at them onto someone else and escape into the gardens or a quiet corner of the room. Originally he and Draco hadn't been that close, Draco had been kind of obnoxious as far as he was concerned. But he'd gotten better with time, especially since he had decided to leave Potter more or less alone. Potter more likely to get himself killed with one of his stunts than Draco was to get him expelled. So they had formed a tenuous friendship which had strengthened with every useless social function they were forced to suffer through.

They had also both come to the same conclusions about themselves at roughly the same time. A conclusion which only made these events even more useless. They were both gay, though as far as Blaise was concerned it had been pretty obvious that Draco was gay, the boy was fanatical about what he wore and how he looked; not to mention his not entirely healthy obsession with Potter. Blaise was slightly less picky; he guessed that he would technically be defined as bisexual. Women were alright and he had no qualms about sleeping with them but god knows he didn't want to date one much less marry one. 7 years of Pansy was more than enough for him. So they suffered through these attempts to find them girlfriends together and reminisced about cute Hogwarts guys, not that there were that many, until the summer ended.

The train ride had been awful. In all honesty, Blaise didn't really like most of his fellow Slytherins. They were all obnoxious, self-serving gits as far as he was concerned. Nott was a slimy little rat, Crabbe and Gloyle weren't worth trying to talk to, he often wondered if inbreeding had turned their brains to mush and Pansy was, well, Pansy. She was determined to one day become Draco's wife and was sickeningly sugary about it. So he talked a bit with Draco before reading for the rest of the trip, leaving Draco to deal with the leech like Pansy.

The welcoming feast was much the same, a bunch of irritating pompous asses talking loudly about how great their summer had been when in all honesty it had probably been as boring as his. The noise was grating on Blaise's last nerve and he was eternally thankful when the headmaster dismissed them and he could escape to his bed.

When the others in their dormitory had either fallen asleep or were hanging out in the common room Draco struck up a conversation they hadn't been able to have at dinner.

'See anything new?' Draco asked as he unpacked and organised his books.

'Not yet but I wasn't really looking. I was mainly controlling the urge to stab that sixth year near us in the eye with my fork. You know the one, has a really irritating voice? God, they wouldn't shut up.' Blaise growled, falling back on his bed. Draco let out a snicker.

'We'll curse their bed tomorrow. Nothing much has changed anyway. Wouldn't touch the Slytherins, Goldstein in Ravenclaw isn't bad but a complete goody two shoes,' Malfoy said pulling a face as he listed the houses 'Hufflepuff is pathetic as usual, Smith's alright and there was a not bad looking younger student, fifth or sixth year I guess.' Blaise interrupted him with a smirk.

'Paedophile much Draco? Should we be watching out for the first years?' He laughed at Draco's outraged face and dodged the book that Draco hurled at him.

'Don't be disgusting Zabini, I merely said he was attractive. He's a Hufflepuff for Merlin's sake, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole.' Draco said in a huff before his scowl changed to a smirk and he slanted his eyes towards Blaise. 'Didn't happen to take a look at the Gryffindor table did you?' he asked coyly. Blaise raised an eyebrow, wondering what Draco was getting at.

'No?' he said suspiciously.

'Hmmm. Really?' Draco said looking very smug with himself. 'Didn't get a good look at that crush of yours?' He smirked. Blaise let out an exasperated sigh.

'I do not have a crush on Longbottom you stupid git.'

'Really? I distinctly remember an inebriated night in which you told me you though he was quite cute.' Blaise growled, never again would he ever go drinking with Draco.

'What I said while under the influence of Fire Whiskey has nothing to do with reality.'

'Ok then, so you don't mind if he goes out with someone else then?' Draco asked innocently.

'Why, looking to get Longbottom all to yourself?' Blaise sneered. He didn't know what Draco was getting at and it was pissing him off. Draco pulled a disgusted face.

'Longbottom? Merlin no, he's all yours. All I meant was for a Gryffindor, and a Longbottom, he is looking much better this year. It's kind of hard to tell from across the hall but he's definitely changed his hair and I think I saw a piercing or two.' Blaise snorted.

'A Gryffindor with piercings? Yeah right, I think you need to get some sleep.' Blaise said with a laugh. Draco merely shrugged.

'Whatever, take a look tomorrow and tell me I'm not right.' He said crawling into bed. Blaise mused for a moment before throwing a grin at Draco.

'So what about Potter?' he asked with laugh. Draco scowled at him and closed his blinds.

'Bugger off Blaise' was the only response he got.

The next morning came much too quickly for both Neville and Blaise. Dragging themselves out of bed they got ready for the first day of classes for their final year.

Neville was contemplating falling asleep on his toast when Professor McGonagall handed him his new timetable. The Hall was full and there was only half an hour and till classes were scheduled to start.

'Mr Longbottom' she said as she handed him his sheet of paper. She spared a glance at him before she started towards the next student. She had taken half a step when she abruptly stopped and turned around to stare at him.

'Mr Longbottom what are those?' she demanded pointing to his face. It took him a second to realise she was referring to his piercings and another second to realise that most of the hall had turned to see what she was yelling about.

'Uhhh' was al he could get out before she rounded on him and announced in a loud voice.

'Mr Longbottom, school rules state that a student may only have one set of holes in the bottom of their ears and must wear simple metal studs or sleepers. You will need to remove all those immediately.' By the end of her speech every head in the hall was turned towards him and his fellow house mates were leaning over the table to get a better look. Neville felt the blush starting to rise in his cheeks.

'But Professor' He started

'Not another word Mr Longbottom. I demand you remove them at once or I will be forced to give you a detention. Really Neville, I expected this from the likes of the Weasley brothers, not you.' She said.

Neville turned his eyes to the rest of the hall and wanted to shrink back in his seat. They were all staring at him, mostly with gaping mouths, except for Malfoy; he was giving Zabini and smug look for reasons that were beyond Neville. He quickly realised this was partially what he wanted, to finally be noticed. Determined not to waste the opportunity he straightened his shoulders, gave the hall a confident look and began removing all 7 of his dull black piercings. He let each one fall into his plate so it made a small ringing noise. The buzz of whispered conversations was growing louder with each clang of another earring and reached just under a roar when he had to pull his tongue out to remove the ring, giving everyone a clear view of the piercing. Once they were all out he looked at Professor McGonagall who had a mix of surprise and disapproval on her face. He slid them all into his pocket.

'Professor?' he asked, trying not to grin and the shocked faces of his fellow Gryffindors. She gave him a curt nod before turning on her heel. The hall once again broke into loud conversation, mainly around Neville and his new accessories.

'Bloody Hell Neville when the hell did you get those?' Ron yelled from a few seats down. It opened the flood gates because next thing he knew all his house mates were throwing questions at him.

'Wow Neville, they're so cool'

'Where did you get them?'

'Did they hurt?'

'How many of those do you have exactly?'

'Are they only on your head?' and so on and so forth. Neville just gave them all a grin and continued to eat his toast. He could tell by the way they were looking at him that his plan had worked perfectly. They were all scanning him with narrowed eyes; taking in the hair and face and the more muscular build that showed under his robes and school shirt. Once they had all quietened down and were busy trying to remember if he had always looked like this he decided to answer some of their questions.

'I got them this summer 'cause I felt like it, at a place in London. No they didn't hurt, it was run by a wizard so they use numbing and healing charms. There are 7 of them, 5 in my ears, one in my eyebrow and one in my tongue. Honestly I do know why people would want them anywhere lower.' He finished the last of his toast, washed it down with some juice and checked his schedule.

'Anyone else got Charms now?'

Blaise Zabini was in shock. He had honestly thought Draco was just imagining things when he told him about Longbottom last night. He couldn't tell from the other side of the hall whether or not Draco was telling the truth, there were too many people in the way but his answer came when McGonagall started yelling at Longbottom about school rules. Then all he could think 'Bloody hell'. Longbottom looked different, hell, Longbottom looked good. Blaise pulled a face, maybe in his head he should call him Neville if he's going to be talking about his looks, that boy honestly had the most hideous last name. He wasn't that different from last year, Blaise had thought he was cute then too, not that he was ever going to admit it to Draco; the smarmy bastard was looking smug enough as is. But Neville didn't look cute anymore, he looked, for lack of a better word, hot. And he had, was the five or six piercing? The Neville they all knew would never have gotten that many piercings, but this guy, he looked confident. He could even have passed for a Slytherin with the amused smirk on his face. Great, just great, was all Blaise could think, there were already a few incidents over the years when Blaise had the urge to stand up for or hug or kiss the stupid Gryffindor and him walking around looking that good was really not going to help matters at all.

Review.


	3. Embarrassing Vines

**Notes:** Thank you to people who reviewed, I'm glad you like it. And on the subject of Neville's appearance, he is, in part, based on the character Teddy Altman (otherwise know as Hulkling) from the comic books _Young Avengers_, except with brown hair and eyes instead of blond and blue. Oh and he obviously is not an alien or a shape-shifter.

**Chapter 3:**Embarrassing Vines

By the end of the day Neville was seriously rethinking his 'notice me' plan. Everywhere he went people were whispering and pointing. Not to mention the countless 'I'm so disappointed/confused' looks he was getting from friends and teachers. He had never had as much respect, or sympathy, for Harry as he did right now. Putting up with this kind of attention for 7 years, it's no wonder he looses his temper sometimes. One day and Neville was close to hexing somebody. He knows he changed but they were treating it like he announced he was the supreme overlord of the magical bunny brigade. Great, he thought, and now he was clearly going insane. He just had to make it through one more lesson and he could retreat to the safety of his bed. Thankfully that last subject was Herbology and not something horrible like potions. Not that Neville took potions anymore but still, it would have been the perfect ending to such a crappy day.

They were doing a pretty basic assignment in Herbology, trimming and replotting a vine whose leaves are used in healing potions. For once it wasn't poisonous, spiky, gooey or had teeth, the worst it did was wrap itself around a persons arm and hold on. Most of the Herbology students felt the sort of relief they get when going to Care of Magical Creatures and finding that the lesson was all theory. Neville didn't really mind either way, he liked plants, they were simple. What he liked less was being partnered with other houses. The Hufflepuffs were nice but the Ravenclaws speak to him like he's a slow child and the Slytherins are just downright nasty. Working in groups of four he had two Ravenclaws and a Slytherin, just his luck. The Ravenclaws talked amongst themselves and thankfully the Slytherin was neither Malfoy nor Parkinson. Instead it was Zabini, a quiet and very good looking boy, generally one of few tolerable, if not nice, Slytherins. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. Ron would blow a blood vessel for saying anything nice about a Slytherin and kill him for admitting another boy could be attractive.

Neville's tendency to be attracted to the most unlikely and generally inconvenient person was something about himself that he had made peace with long ago. First he had a crush on Ginny Weasley, who was so in love with Harry that other people didn't even register on her radar. Then it had been the daughter of a family friend who had looked at him like he was the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. Then it had been their 6th year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Symmers, a nice man in his mid to late 20s. When Neville had realised that it wasn't admiration he felt he had been so embarrassed he couldn't look the Professor in the eye for a week. Thankfully that had faded fairly quickly, especially considering Professor Symmers had broken the DADA curse and was now starting his second year in the position free of debilitating injuries or diseases. And now Neville was standing here thinking about how attractive Blaise Zabini was with his slanted eyes and height cheekbones. Just his luck.

Blaise was cursing his luck. Partnered with Neville Longbottom, just the person he had been trying to avoid. He didn't blush often and thankfully when he did it was hard to notice but he had that feeling in the pit of his stomach that by the end of the lesson he was going to end up bright red. And there was nothing he could do about it. However, once the four of them had arrived at the table the Ravenclaws created their own little sub-group and Longbottom seems to have gone off into his own little world. He was just staring blankly ahead. In all honesty, it was actually kind of creepy. He didn't even move, or notice, when the vine happily clung to his arms. Blaise wasn't entirely sure what to do.

'Uh, Longbottom?' he said waving his hand in front of Neville's face in the universal 'you awake?' gesture. There was no response. He looked as if he was contemplating the universe or something. Blaise didn't want to disturb him on his quest for enlightenment or whatever he was doing but their plant needed to be replotted which could only happen if it let go of Neville's arms.

'Longbottom, you in there?' he asked poking him roughly in the shoulder. This seemed to snap him out because with a loud 'huh?' and a quick shake of the head Neville returned to the land of the living and noticed the vine which had taken a keen interest in him.

'What? Oh damn' he muttered, trying to free his arms. Blaise knew someone up there hated him. The Ravenclaws were muttering between themselves and looked like they were going to be of no use. He was going to have to help Neville pull himself free of the clingy vine. Which meant getting near him, like right next to him near him. Blaise cursed as he felt his cheeks begin to heat up.

It took them 10 minutes to get free of the stupid plant. Somewhere in the process they had ended up with Blaise trapped between Neville and the table when the stupid plant had gotten a hold of his wrist and tried to pull him onto the table. His back was sandwiched up against Neville's front and it was doing nothing for his sense of equilibrium. The stupid Ravenclaws were still just sitting there taking notes, complete oblivious to Blaise's growing discomfort and embarrassment. He swore that they would be cursed by the end of the week, along with this stupid plant.

'Um sorry. Maybe if we just…' Neville was muttering trying to free himself and give Blaise room. Really he just ended up rubbing up against him in a way that cause Blaise's cheeks to flush bright red. He had never been more thankful for his dark skin tone, at best only Neville and the Ravenclaws would be able to tell he was blushing. Thankfully Draco had dropped Herbology, he would have been able to tell instantly and then he never would have heard the end of it.

'Ok. This is really not working. Can you reach your wand?' Neville asked. The only thing that was helping Blaise was that Neville sounded as embarrassed and uncomfortable as he felt. Blaise used his one free hand, which he had previously been using to either keep a grip on the table so he wasn't dragged on to it or tug uselessly at the vines, to drag his wand out of his pocket.

'If you just use a really small stinging curse, really lightly, it may scare it enough to loosen its hold.' Neville sounded unsure but at this point Blaise would have cursed his own hand off to get out of the situation. Blaise aimed for as close to the middle of it as he could. It let out a weird shudder and after tightening to the point where Blaise could feel the bones in his wrist grind together it finally let go. He heard Neville give out a pained sound before letting out a sigh of relief. Blaise could already feel the bruises forming not only where the plant had a hold of him but where his hip bones had been slammed into the wooden bench. He shot a nasty glare at the Ravenclaws.

'Thanks for the help' he hissed. They looked halfway between confused and affronted. Returning to his own side of the table Blaise flopped into his chair. He wasn't moving, least of all towards that stupid plant, until the blush on his face was successfully gone.

Looking around the room he noticed, thankfully, that no one seemed to have noticed them. They were all too busy fighting their own plants.

Neville stayed silent for the rest of the Herbology lesson, with the help of the two Ravenclaws he managed to replot and trim the vine without getting himself caught in it again. He could feel himself turn red at just the thought of earlier. If anyone noticed he had suddenly turned into a tomato they were nice enough not to say anything. He had had Blaise Zabini, the boy he had just been contemplating his attraction to, pinned between himself and a table in a ridiculously compromising position. If this was one of his Gran's romance novels, the ones she claims not to own but Neville occasionally finds left in the drawing room, he would have turned Zabini around, declared his undying love and kissed him. Or, if his hormones had any say in it, he wouldn't have turned Zabini around and kissing would have only been the beginning of what he did to him. Neville shut his eyes for a second until enough blood returned to his head for him to finish trimming the vine without taking off his own fingers. This was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about these things, he had already been lucky that Zabini had been distracted enough by the plant not to notice Neville's inability to breath, or function, there was no point in pushing that luck.

After the 'vine incident' as Neville was referring to it in his mind Zabini stayed clear of the plant, scribbling on a sheet of parchment instead. He contemplated apologising but packed up and left without a word instead. Merlin knows he would only manage to say something completely stupid if he managed to produce a sound at all.

Neville fled to the safety of the dormitories. This was bad, very, very bad. There is a profound difference between having a crush on a girl in your house or a professor and a boy from the rival house. His crush on Ginny had been at a time when all he really wanted to do was hold her hand and maybe even kiss her. Not to mention it had been completely safe, she was interested in Harry and Ron would never have let him make a move on her. And even if he had Ron would have given him the big brother 'hurt her and you die' speech and everything would have been back to normal. His crush on Professor Symmers was also harmless, the man was their teacher and he was never anything more than courteous and warm to any of his students. Plus he could pass it off as admiration if someone called him on it. But Zabini…

Firstly he was a boy, Neville had no problem with liking boys but he didn't know how the others felt about it; Ron in particular always gotten angry and uncomfortable about stuff like that, even when it was just a game of truth or dare. Secondly, he was a Slytherin and as far as most Gryffindors care concerned, Slytherin equals evil, no exceptions. Thirdly, Zabini didn't even like him as a friend let alone more and if he ever found out Neville would be the laughing stock of the entire school. Neville paled, imagine if Malfoy found out, he had to sit down for a minute at the thought. There is the small chance that if he came out to Zabini and was turned down it would stay between them. But if Malfoy knew it would be around the school in minutes, he would do everything within his power to humiliate him. Neville felt sick.

He was determined that no one would know. He just had to survive this year then he was free, out in the world doing whatever it is he wanted to do. Besides there's no reason this crush shouldn't fade within a month or so like the others. Neville spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself.

Enjoy. Review.


	4. Purrs and Conversations

**Notes:**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it made my day I'll try and update regularly but uni starts again soon so it may be a bit inconsistent. Also I'd like to say that there is not enough Neville (particularly Neville/Blaise) love out there. Spread the love people.

**Warning:** Light smut part way down in _italics_

**Chapter 4:**Purrs and Conversations

Neville spent the past week staring intently at anything that wasn't Blaise Zabini. Or Slytherin. Or male. Most of the time Neville stared at his feet. Nice, safe, boring, non-sexual feet. Honestly he was embarrassed; he had gotten to the point where he couldn't even look at Blaise without turning red. Which was quite an achievement because it usually felt like most of his blood was falling in the opposite direction.

Neville blamed his embarrassment on Seamus; it was all his fault that Neville couldn't get smutty thought out of his head. Even after the 'vine incident' from Herbology Neville had managed to keep a control on his hormones, or at the very least kept his fantasies PG-13.

They were innocent dreams, like he would be standing in front of the school in his underwear and Zabini would wander by and offer him a cloak. Or he was winning the Quidditch World cup and as he landed to receive his trophy Zabini would run up and give him a victory kiss. Or he was wandering the halls late at night and would turn the corner and run into Zabini who would admit that he loved Neville. Embarrassing but harmless. Then Seamus had to go and accidentally change all that.

Actually, Ron was probably a better person to blame. Yes, it was all Ron's fault. The five Gryffindor boys were hanging out in the dormitories one night when Ron, as he usually does, brought up the subject of sex. He did this every few weeks so it wasn't a particularly new subject for them all. It normally ended up with him and Seamus gossiping like teenage girls about who was sleeping with whom and who they would like to sleep with. Neville always found the conversations equal parts embarrassing and amusing, he was almost certain that Ron was still a virgin and just repeated what he had heard from his brothers to sound more knowledgeable. He, Harry and Dean would refuse to participate, offering the occasional laugh or comment but nothing more.

That night was no different; Ron and Seamus went through the couples year by year when Seamus mentioned something they had never brought up before. Stebbins and Fawcett. Ethan Stebbins was a 5th year Hufflepuff and Samuel Fawcett was a 6th year Ravenclaw, they had been openly dating for a few months. They weren't the only gay couple in the school but if there were others they were keeping themselves pretty quite, which in an isolated boarding school is quite an achievement. Seamus had mused about how far they had gone and who was on top. One look at Ron had stopped the whole conversation. He had looked like he couldn't make up his mind between being horrified and disgusted, instead his face had twisted and he turned a decidedly unhealthy colour. Seamus had quickly changed the subject but Ron's utter horror at the mention of two boys he didn't even know was burned into Neville's memory. The subject had been dropped and everyone pretended it never happened but Neville ended up in a state of panic. If that was Ron's reaction to Stebbins and Fawcett what would he do if Neville announced he liked a boy? A Slytherin? He'd be lynched, or at best thrown out of the house. The thought had churned Neville's insides. He had buried himself under his covers but the conversation had played out again and again in his head. In the end he had a very sleepless night.

The indecision and nausea weren't what made Neville so embarrassed about looking at people, however. It was what happed because of the conversation the next day when he had caught sight of Stebbins and Fawcett walking hand in hand. Seamus' musings on their sexual activity brought forth a whole series of mental images that Neville never again wanted to have in public. He felt like if someone looked hard enough they could see what he was thinking.

The images hadn't gone away, if anything as time passed they increased until he couldn't focus on what he was doing.

Which was why Neville could no longer look at the Slytherin boy, one glance and all he could think about doing were things that were most certainly against school rules.

_It was late at night and he was alone in the dormitory, the silence was stifling. He didn't know where everyone else was, maybe he was supposed to be somewhere, he didn't know and he didn't care. So he just waited, for what he didn't know, but he knew he had to wait. Anticipation was creeping up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his chest feel heavy. The adrenaline in his system was making his limbs shake and his skin crawl. _

_It needed to happen now, whatever he was waiting for it needed to turn up now. Whatever was listening hear__d__ his pleas because he could hear footsteps quietly making their way to the door. He wondered if he should move, do something, anything other than stand in the middle of the room, panting in an effort to breathe rhythmically.__ Whatever had approached the door was finally entering the room. The breath rushed from his lungs. _

_It was Blaise, standing in the doorway staring at him with those bottomless eyes. The light from the fireplace, had it always been this dark, lit up part of his face, enough to make out the narrow eyes and sculpted cheekbones. His dark skin blended into the shadows that the light__ threw__ out. He looked like a panther or some sleek jungle cat that flickered in the corner of your vision as it stalked its prey. He __wondered if Blaise purred. Those eyes came closer until they were standing nose to nose. He was taller but not by much. He could feel Blaise's breath ghosting across his lips and chin. He was terrified, if he touched him would he disappear? Blaise solved that problem by reaching out a hand to rest gently on his chest, over his heart. His heartbeat was erratic, could Blaise feel it flittering beneath his fingers. __He __lost sight of those eyes as they slid closed and lips touched._

_Blaise tasted hot, feverish, as though there was a fire just beneath the skin, pushing to get out. It coiled around him, drawing him in, racing though his veins. There was no more hesitation, there was no more fear. He needed this, more than air, more than life. Blaise wouldn't disappear if he touched him but he would if he let go. Hands slid everywhere, searching for more feverish skin under layers of useless material. Pushing, pulling, gripping trying to get closer and closer. His lips slid from Blaise'__s mouth leaving a__ trail to his throat. Deep moans, gasps, purrs poured from Blasie's mouth as he tried to consume all the chocolate skin exposed at his throat. He needed to be closer, he needed more. Material was lost, discarded and more chocolate flesh exposed to his ravenous mouth. Blaise on his back, arching up, his skin was so pale in comparison to Blaise's darkness. More skin, more touches, more half caught moans. No more material. He __needed this, Blaise underneath him, hands in his hair, on his back, scratching down his stomach. Murmurs of encouragement, broken by purring gasps, as he shifted closer. Feverish skin everywhere, under him, around him. Tight heat suffocating him, his name pouring from those swollen lips as he moved faster, deeper. No lost contact, no letting go. Rushing tingles up his back in anticipation, silent cries beneath him as Blaise tumbles into oblivion. Perfect heat, perfect touch. He looks down at those bottomless, sedate eyes. Their darkness swallows him up. _

Neville wakes up.

The sunlight is falling across his bed, he's alone. He's hard as hell. Neville let out a frustrated and slightly pained sigh as he flops back onto his bed. This was going to be one of those days, he just knew it. He was going to spend the whole day alternating between being red as a tomato and hard as rock. And unless he had slept for 24 hours it was Friday which meant one more day of classes and trying to avoid the Slytherin boy who had just played such an impressive role in his dreams. Neville cursed his luck; sometimes he was sure that the world hated him.

His roommates were asleep and his clock told him it was still an hour before any of them would wake up. Neville slid silently from his bed; he had an hour to get rid of the not so little problem his dream had left him with.

Blaise and Draco sat at their house table eating their breakfast. Though the table was quite full the seats around the pair were empty, the other students were too scared to sit in them. For the past week Blaise had been in a nasty mood and was cursing anybody that irritated him, from those that interrupted his thoughts to those that breathed too loudly. Even Draco wasn't immune to his foul disposition; however, if Blaise ever cursed him he gave as good as he got and neither boy could be bothered having an all out duel. Not to mention that Draco had too much fun perpetuating Blaise's bad mood, watching the first years cringe in terror was hilarious.

Blaise knew he was overreacting but he couldn't help it. Draco had been teasing him for the past week about his Herbology class; it would appear that not everyone was as focused on their own plants as he thought. Someone else had told him about the incident and Draco couldn't stop teasing him, after he stopped laughing of course. That combined with the dozens of rumour that had sprung up about the Gryffindor boy was enough to sour his normally calm mood.

According to the rumours Neville was dating everyone, from Potter to a biker to Professor Snape. The last one made Blaise cringe, it was just wrong in so many ways. The rumours sprung up because so many people wanted to date him now that they had noticed him. Blaise was beyond irritated, he liked the bloody Gryffindor before he came back looking all sexy! Blaise wanted to curse all the giggling girls and anyone who threw Neville a wink or sexy look.

It didn't help matters that he has had no contact with Neville since _that_ Herbology class. If he was paranoid he'd say the boy was avoiding him but in all honesty they didn't have many classes together besides Herebology and Transfiguration so he usually only saw him at meals or by chance in the corridors. And when ever he saw him at meals or in the corridors there was a stupid group of girls giggling to each other glancing at him in a not so subtle way.

The worst was when they worked up the courage to actually talk to him, like one time in the library. Blaise had been doing his history homework in the library. It was completely pointless but Neville was sitting a few tables over in his line of sight so he could handle the boredom. Then one of those stupid giggling girls had slinked over to his table, trying to look all innocent and sultry, two expressions which don't work well together and made her look like she had a stomach problem. She must have asked him for Herbology help or something because he invited her to sit down and was pulling out books and being very cheerful. Blaise was pissed, the boy was too nice for his own good, if he was more observant he would have noticed that she wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the diagrams and that she was sliding her chair round next to his. And there Neville was, grinning like an idiot at her, being all nice, talking to her. Blaise left the library, if he stayed any longer he was going to crack and throw a book at them or something.

Just thinking about it made Blaise's blood boil. Draco was giving him a weird look when he came back from his daydreams.

'Blaise? You're growling' he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Blaise instantly stopped and realised that the second year a few seats down from him was actually whimpering in fear. He sighed; stupid Gryffindors and their heterosexual ways. It didn't matter how much Draco tried to convince him the Neville was not as straight as he thought he was, he had yet to see him so much as glance in another boy's direction let alone date one. As far as Blaise was concerned he was doomed to forever watch the boy he liked date stupid blond Hufflepuff girls.

Giving up on trying to feed his body he waved good bye to Draco and left the hall. As if to add insult to injury he had Herbology, a whole class of trying not to stare at the stupid boy. At this point Blaise was as pissed off at Neville as he was attracted to him. Hissing about stupid Gryffindors under his breath he marched down to the Greenhouse.

It was nearly empty, understandable considering he was 20 minutes early, except for one other person. Blaise felt like bashing his head against a stone wall somewhere. Neville. Blaise was confused; he could swear the boy was still eating breakfast when he felt.

'How did you get down here so fast?' he demanded before he realised he had said it out loud. Neville looked surprised and slightly offended by his sudden appearance and question. Blaise wished he could disappear, or turn back time, anything so he didn't have to stand in the uncomfortable silence that he had created.

'I know a shortcut?' Neville offered. Blaise coughed and looked around the greenhouse, anywhere but at Neville.

'Right' he murmured before finding a desk as far away from him as possible. Blaise was yelling at himself in his head. Say something, anything, for the love of Merlin, insult him if you have to, this silence is killing, SAY SOMETHING.

'So are you and that Hufflepuff girl dating?' Blaise said. His mind when white and a loud buzzing filled his ears. Sweet Merlin did he just say what he thought he did. Weren't Slytherin's supposed to have control? What was he thinking; he probably looked like some crazy stalker now. Neville was staring at his desk, occasionally throwing him confused glances.

'Who?' he asked. Blaise was between a rock and a hard space.

He could stop the conversation and look like a complete freak or he could continue to talk and dig himself into a deeper hole.

'You know, that blond one? See you guys in the library together a lot' Blaise murmured, kicking himself. Nice, that sounded completely normal, I watch you two in the library, not creepy at all. Blaise felt like screaming, this was not him, he could smoothly talk his way out of anything. He'd talked himself out of worse conversations when he was five. It was one of the few useful talents he had acquired from his mother, along with the ability to fake tears and make people have 'tragic accidents'. Why the hell is he talking like a brain dead monkey _now_?

'Oh, you mean Megan. Um now, we're not, I mean I'm not,' Neville cleared his throat; he had gone a pink colour and was staring at his hands 'I'm helping her with Herbology, not anything else.' He finished.

Blaise felt like smirking and possibly doing a small victory dance but refrained, Neville probably thought he was unstable enough as is.

'Huh, why not? Blonds not your type?' Blaise smirked, now he knew what he was doing, this was like when he teased Draco. His mind righted itself and he stopped feeling like a brain dead monkey.

'What?' Neville asked, head whipping up to look at him, eyes wide. Blaise resisted the urge to lick his lips or do what ever he normally did to get a guys attention.

'You said you weren't dating, she seems to like you. Is it because you don't like blonds?' he asked, leaning across his desk. Neville's eyes were wide and he was blushing like crazy. Blaise was sure he's never seen anything more adorable.

'I' Neville was stuttering looking unsure about what to say 'That, I, What, I mean, no, uh, not blonds, I mean there's nothing wrong, uh, with, uh, no.' He finished, looking away from Blaise and sinking into his seat. Blaise was biting his lip so a laugh didn't escape. He knew he was being mean but he couldn't resist.

'So what, you prefer brunettes? Red heads? Boys?' Blaise threw the last one in mainly to making him blush. He felt like he was teasing Draco and a comment like that never failed to make him splutter and growl in the most amusing ways. What he didn't expect was for Neville's head to whip around and stare at him in an intense way at his last question.

Blaise felt his eyes go wide this time 'oh' he said as it started to sink into his head 'OH' he said. All he could do was stare at him blankly thinking Draco was right, Draco was _right_, _Draco_ was right. Neville's eyes narrowed and for such a sweet guy he looked pretty terrifying when he was glaring.

'You tell anyone…' Blaise cut him off with a scornful look.

'Why would I tell? I'm not that nasty' he said, glaring right back.

'How the hell should I know, you never can tell with Slytherins' Blaise felt slighted, that was just low, not to mention it hurt to think Neville only ever saw him as another Slytherin.

'Like hell, the only Slytherin I talk to is Draco and despite what you all think of us we wouldn't tease you about it, we're not hypocrites, like' Blaise froze he'd done it again, sweet Merlin, he had talked without making any connection to his brain. Neville was looking at him in shock again and Blaise realised he was now the one blushing like crazy. Today was not his day; he was acting like a complete idiot for no reason.

'You're?' Neville didn't even finish his sentence; his raised eyebrows said it all. Blaise wanted the ground to swallow him up, he wasn't talking for the rest of the day, no matter what people wanted he wasn't risking talking complete stupidity again to some unsuspecting 3rd year.

They sat in silence for the next minute or two. Blaise was trying to make himself invisible and Neville looked deep in thought. When he finally opened his mouth to speak again Professor Sprout bustled into the room breaking up their uncomfortable conversation.

Blaise refused to look at anyone for the rest of the day and only spoke when asked a direct question by a professor.

Neville spent the rest of the day in deep thought before what Blaise had said finally sunk into his skull at about 10pm and he let out a yell of joy causing everyone in the common room to look at him weirdly.

Not sure if I liked this chapter, still, review.


	5. Mistletoe Adventures

**Notes:** Sorry for the delay in posting I've been having a crap semester. Thank you to anyone who reviewed – it's always much appreciated.

**Chapter 5:** Mistletoe adventures

The year progressed as Christmas and New Years passed. The castle became a 'winter wonderland' which Blaise personally thought made it look like Santa and his elves had imbibed too much eggnog and thrown up everywhere. But then again when you leave decorating up to house-elves and a man who thinks it's appropriate to wear purple robes and yellow shoes together what do you expect? Classes resumed after the short break and the seventh students were thrust into hell as the professors tried to cram as much knowledge as possible into their minds.

Blaise had calmed down since the second humiliating Herbology incident which was too horrifying to name but could still not look Neville in the eye. Not that he was willing to admit his embarrassment to anyone, particularly Draco. He maintained that he was not avoiding the Gryffindor but that he enjoyed walking to more obscure corridors and hiding behind his classmates whenever Neville wandered past.

Herbology had quickly become his least favourite subject as it mocked him at every turn. Whenever he looked up, there was Neville standing in a ray of sunlight so he glowed, or grinning beautifully or wrist deep in dirt with adorable streaks of mud across his face and neck. The stupid Gryffindor, of course, had to be completely oblivious to what he was doing to Blaise.

Neville was in a jam, the tables had turned, where he was once avoiding Blaise, Blaise was now avoiding him. Or at least he was pretty sure he was being avoided. He use to see Blaise in the corridors and before classes but he never seemed to be anywhere anymore, or if he was there were too many other Slytherin's around to look at him without being spotted. It was driving Neville insane. Personally he was over the moon, Blaise was gay, or at least wasn't adverse to guys so it meant if nothing else that Neville had a slim chance, right?

But how does a Gryffindor ask out a guarded, aristocratic Slytherin who happened to be best friends with the person who could make the rest of Neville's school career a living nightmare? It wasn't an easy question to answer.

Neville spent so much time trying to figure out a plan and mapping worst case scenarios that his house mates thought he had gone a bit loopy. Or that he was already dating someone, Ron in particular kept trying to pry the name of the 'lucky girl' from him. It was getting so annoying that Neville contemplated telling him that the 'lucky girl' was the sexiest _male_ he had ever seen but always bit his tongue. At the moment his housemates were the only thing saving him from the giggling girls that insisted on following him everywhere.

Megan was the exception to the giggling girls and had actually turned out to be a great friend. She had flirted with him constantly for the first few days until he had quietly explained he already liked someone and she had somehow worked out that it was a boy. Neville didn't think he was being that obvious but she assured him it was just a girl's intuition thing. He tried not to point out that if she could sense it why did she waste so much time flirting with him.

She often gave him advice and comforting words when his paranoia and about being rejected or lynched by his housemates got the best of him. She had also eventually weaselled the name of his crush from him and spent ridiculous amounts of time planning attack strategies for asking him out. They were usually so complex that Neville felt like he was going into battle.

Even the best laid plans were cast aside when Neville realised that in the end he just didn't have the courage to ask the Slytherin out. Some Gryffindor he turned out to be.

Life continued in this depressing vein for quite a while and the seventh year's brains became so stuffed with knowledge and spells and names and dates that everything was forced out. With the stressful work load came the confrontations. It was a simple equation, find two groups of teenage old males, segregate them in unhealthy ways, add an overdose of testosterone for competitive spirit and drop them all into a tense, long-term, sleep deprived situation. Anyone who thinks the two groups will not be at each others throats is an idiot.

The infamous Slytherin-Gryffindor fights were starting to spark up more and more frequently. Not a day went past without Ronald Weasley, red faced, screaming at someone for doing something, anything. Looking at him too long, looking at Hermione too long, whispering, mentioning the word weasel or humming two consecutive notes that sounded like they may lead to 'Weasley is our king'. Even students that had previously kept themselves out of the fights like Theodore Nott and Dean Thomas were throwing themselves in with gusto.

All the teachers were on high alert and the first years in a perpetual state of terror knowing that any moment could be the one to send them to the Hospital wing.

It was this tense atmosphere that lead Peeves to do, what he considered, his first good act for the students. He was going to help them relieve stress and become more involved with their fellow classmates. However, any 'good' plan of Peeves' usually spelt disaster for everyone else.

And it did.

Some how Peeves had gotten his hands on the old Christmas decorations, not all of them, but one box in particular that the house elves took great pains to hide from him each year. He got his hands on the mistletoe.

Mistletoe on its own was quite harmless, even magical mistletoe just hovered in doorways and made inappropriate noises. Peeves' mistletoe, however, took it one step further. It wasn't confined to doorways, it roamed the school as it saw fit and latched itself onto people. It yelled and wolf whistled and could recite exactly who it had forced to kiss, it gave ratings and advice on who was a worthy partner and who was not. It was, in Blaise's mind, the evil mistletoe of death.

There was no escaping them and even McGonagall had been forced to give Dumbledore a kiss on the cheek to rid herself of one at dinner. They also seemed to have taken a liking to Blaise, much to his horror. Usually when one found him he would track down Draco, give him a peck on the cheek, and it would be on its way, saddened by the 'depressingly boring show' but content to happily terrorise another unsuspecting soul.

Unfortunately Blaise could not get rid of Draco so easily and every time he turned up with a green floating ball of doom, he would suggest that Blaise should go find Neville to help take care of the problem. To which his only response was ever a swift slap to the back of the head.

Professor Flitwick was little help with the problem and seemed quite entertained by the horrible pieces of flying vegetation. He would happily tell anyone who asked how they worked and the complex magic involved in their 'memory' and voice. So the school was forced to suffer them until Peeves thought they had all bonded enough to get rid of them.

It was the second week of mistletoe horror when it happened. It was an hour before curfew and Blaise was randomly wandering the halls. Almost everyone who wasn't camped out in the library was in their common room and the Slytherin's were being too loud. They were giving Blaise a headache so he decided to waste the last hour wandering aimlessly through the hallways. With any luck he would find a secret passageway or something.

I know it's a horrible cliff hanger and I am so very sorry (please don't throw things at me). I am also sorry that I haven't up-dated this story in ages. It's been a bad year or so. I will try and be more frequent in my updates (if I ever figure out where it is going). SORRY.


	6. Notes

I feel horrible for doing this but I need to put this story on hiatus. My normal life has been going to hell and the problem turns out to be that I am suffering from depression. Fun times. Feeling bad about not updating or being able to focus on anything for more than a short while is only making it worse. So I need to put this on hiatus until I can get myself sorted and well enough to focus on anything remotely long-term, like multi-chapter stories.

In the meantime I will probably be posting weird single chapter, free-standing stories from different things. Those stories, usually less than a page long, is about my ability to focus at the moment. I'm sorry about this but when I'm up to it I will continue with _Change_.

If anyone wishes to, they have my permission to take the story line and run with it however they see fit.

Sorry again, and may you all have a merry holiday season.


	7. Of Kisses and Discoveries

**Notes:** Hi to anyone who is still with me. I am so very sorry about the epic delay but c'est la vie. So I have finally done another chapter and I hope you like it.

**Chapter 6: **Of Kisses and Discoveries

Neville cursed his luck. Not two steps out of the library and he was attacked by a flying green monster. If he had been able to catch it he would have torn it to pieces, the evil chattering mistletoe. He had been caught by them a few times now and thankfully Ginny or Megan were usually kind enough to let him peck them on the cheek. This one was going to have to come back to Gryffindor with him. Since there was no one around for him to kiss it had chosen instead to regale him off previous kisses.

'Terry Boot gave Michelle McAdams a real snog, tongue and everything. An 8 out of 10 I think, a solid effort but a little shaky on the dismount. I don't think he intentionally grabbed her but she certainly wasn't impressed. Now Guinevere Gilson thought she could ignore me, boy did I prove her wrong…'

Neville tried to tune it out and he was halfway back to the tower, near the Great Hall, when something caught his attention.

'…what a disappointment. Still I think…'

'Wait! What did you just say?' Neville asked it. It had no face but he was sure it was staring down at him.

'What about it being disappointing? Well it was, barely a brush on the cheek, the first years do better than that.'

'No, about who. Did you say Zabini?'

'Indeed it was, Blaise Zabini, third time I caught him too. And every time is so boring, you think he could do better.'

'Who…who was he kissing? I mean just out of curios…' Neville trailed off, blushing slightly. It was stupid to think he wouldn't have been caught by the mistletoe before, everyone was. But the thought of him kissing someone else brought a tight feeling to Neville's chest.

'Every time like clockwork he goes to Draco Malfoy and gives him a peck on the cheek. A thoroughly uninteresting show, but maybe they just don't like an audience. I bet you they're much better alone, if you know what I mean. Now Ethan Stebbins…'

Neville tunned the rest of it out. Malfoy, Blaise was kissing Malfoy. They did seem to be friends so it could be platonic, like him with Ginny or Megan, the logical part of his brain pointed out. Unfortunately this was only a tiny fraction behind his right ear. The rest of it was now convinced that Blaise and Malfoy were dating. After all he had implied in the Herbology conversation that they were both gay and Draco did have an unhealthy obsession with Harry.

Neville felt sitting down and crying or going and cursing someone. He didn't stand a chance against someone like Malfoy. Both he and Blaise were traditionalist pure-blood. Both of them were Slytherins. Both were more than likely going to end up on the other side of the war, together. They were both beautiful, in their own way. Perfect opposites, Blaise's dark to Draco's light. Neville was still just the dumpy boy standing on the sideline. It brought that sick feeling back to his stomach. For a short while he was so happy, deluded in his belief that maybe he had a chance, maybe he had changed. Well it was surely and firmly squashed now.

In a foul mood Neville continued to make his way up to the Gryffindor tower.

Blaise wandered higher and higher in the school. He had left the dungeons behind and was making his way towards the front hall for no reason other than he could. Not far from the library he heard his name being called down one of the hallways. It was one of those stupid mistletoes, talking about him to whoever was unfortunate enough to get stuck with it.

Blaise didn't want to be around when it got bored telling stories, Merlin knows what it would try and make him do. He snuck down the hall, hoping to avoid the green ball of death.

Up ahead of him he saw someone, the unfortunate recipient of the horrifying mistletoe turn the corner. It was still yammering on, floating just above the doomed individual. Half a second later Blaise realised who it was. Neville was stomping off glaring holes in the floor. Whatever the mistletoe had done it must have been particularly nasty, Blaise thought, because Neville was looking murderous. He hesitated. He could just slink back down the hall and Neville would never know he was there. Or he could do something suicidally stupid and go up to him.

Then Blaise remembered that he was avoiding this particular Gryffindor because whenever he got within a few meters of him his brain took a short holiday and he inevitably ended up doing or saying something embarrassing. He would turn around and go back to the dungeons he decided, insufferably loud students or not. Except his feet were obviously not listening because while his brain formulated his brilliant escape his feet carried him down the corridor until the mistletoe noticed him, giving a shout of joy.

Neville jumped when the mistletoe above his head gave out a triumphant scream.

"Look! Look! Pucker up! You know you want to!" It screamed.

Neville spun around; some poor person must be in the hallway with him. He froze as the mistletoe continued to yell encouragements. Blaise Zabini was standing behind him looking confused and a bit pissed off. Neville wasn't entirely sure but Blaise seemed to be glaring at his own shoes and hissing the word 'traitor'. Neville paused, was he calling him a traitor? Was this a stupid pure-blood fight because he really wasn't in the mood. Not after hearing about Blaise's exploits with Malfoy. Neville's foul mood returned.

"What? Look Zabini if you're trying to start a fight or something I really don't care. Call me a traitor or whatever I just don't see how…" Neville trailed off, Blaise's head had snapped up and was looking at him in bewildered confusion. So maybe he wasn't talking to Neville, he must have been muttering to himself, though what he could have been talking about was unclear.

"What? No I wasn't calling you a traitor. I was just…you know. Muttering." Blaise said uneasily, looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him. Really he couldn't have thought of a better excuse. This was pathetic, he should be kicked out of Slytherin. Acting like a brain-dead flobber-worm was almost understandable once, it was a strange and bad day. Doing it twice was unacceptable. Neville was still staring at him, angry and confused. Blaise refused to meet his eyes and chose to instead stare above his head at the dancing, yelling mistletoe.

"Oh" they stood in awkward silence as the minutes ticked past, neither willing to be the first one to talk or move. The mistletoe became more and more outrageous as it grew impatient, suggesting things that made Blaise's stomach clench and cheeks heat up.

Neville shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Blaise was just standing there watching the mistletoe above his head or staring over his shoulder at the empty corridor. Did he want something? Was he waiting for someone? That must be it, Neville thought, he must be waiting for someone else, Malfoy maybe. His lips thinned, if he and Malfoy were getting together why couldn't they do it down in the dungeons where there was no chance of Neville seeing it. This was just cruel, coming up this close to the Gryffindor tower. This illogicality of his thoughts alluded Neville as he convinced himself that Blaise was deliberately teasing him. Deliberately standing there looking so attractive, deliberately drawing attention to his smooth neck by rubbing it briefly, deliberately licking his lips so Neville could only stare at them, desperate to kiss them. Neville felt his temper grow, this was unfair and a very Slytherin thing of Blaise to do. He opened his mouth to yell something completely incomprehensible when Blaise finally muttered something.

"How long have you been stuck with it?"

Neville felt his temper deflate.

"What?" he asked.

"The mistletoe" Blaise muttered meeting his gaze briefly before glancing away again, motioning in a vague way to above Neville's head.

There was a pause as Neville's brain tried to reconnect itself.

"Oh, since the library, not that long I guess. I was just, you know, going to the common room, the Gryffindor, yeah… someone will help. I mean, usually I just. Yeah" Neville trailed off, coughing uncomfortably.

Blaise looked uncomfortable for a minute.

"I figured you probably have someone waiting for, I mean, back in Gryffindor, one of the…" Blaise trailed off when he realised he was just rambling. The thought of Neville with one of the Gryffindor boys, kissing one of them, made his chest tighten and his blood boil.

"Yeah, well I mean Ginny is usually. I mean, she is nice enough to let me, you know, to make them go away." Neville said with a vague motion, remembering how the mistletoe told him about Blaise and Malfoy. "It must be easy for you with Malfoy so close."

Blaise looked confused, "I guess, he knows it's just, you know, a thing. Better then trying to convince some guy…" Blaise blushed, he never really mentioned his orientation to anyone besides Draco and it felt strange saying it like that to someone else; to a Gryffindor.

Neville shifted uncomfortably, he and Blaise had been standing in the corridor for quite a while now, curfew was probably only minutes away but he still felt reluctant to leave.

"I really should go, 'cause people may be going to bed. And I still need, you know, someone to" he motioned vaguely to the bored mistletoe above his head. It grew petulant and started sulking when it realised they were ignoring it.

"Oh" Blaise said, shifting uncomfortably as well. "Yeah, it's late." His eyes strayed up. "I could" he paused. This was a stupid idea, a very very stupid idea that he should stop now.

Neville froze. Blaise was tense in front of him, staring at the mistletoe, was he about to suggest what Neville though he was?

"Huh?" Not the most elegant of replies but considering his brain had more or less shut down at the hint of a suggestion, it was the most he could manage. Blaise looked conflicted for a second before he started to turn away.

"Um, never mind. It's nothing" he said, he had avoided saying something completely stupid so now was the time to escape. He was half turned away from Neville when a hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. He spun his head back around to ask what Neville was doing when a pair of lips descended on his. He did not move for a second, did not breath and could only stare blankly at his close up vision of Neville's closed eyes. Then his brain shut down, his eyes slid shut and he reached up to grab a handful of Neville's shirt to drag him closer.

Neville couldn't believe his luck. He kissed Blaise on a brief adrenaline high convinced it would only last a second before the Slytherin pushed him off and when he reached up to grab some of Neville's shirt he though he was going to be punched. Instead, Blaise pulled them together, tilted his head and relaxing into the kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm.

Neville held out for as long as he could before his body started screeching for oxygen. Reluctantly he pulled away from Blaise's lips. He took deep, gulping breaths, aware that his cheeks were stained bright red. Blaise was breathing quickly as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking languidly. They contemplated each other, unsure about what to do now.

"I…" Neville squeaked, his voice an octave too high. Blaise slowly licked his lips and Neville lost his train of thought. The mistletoe gave out a wolf whistle and with a brief "hell yes" was once more zooming down the corridor. They both started at the noise and with mumbled excuses took off in opposite directions, both aiming to go hide in their beds for the rest of the night.

_Neville was kissing Blaise, pushing up against his soft lips, sliding his tongue into his warm mouth. They were in a corridor, like the one they shared their first kiss in. Neville kept a hold of Blaise's hips, pushing them as close together as he could until he could feel the heat through his clothes, feel their hard-on's pressing together. One of them let out a deep moan but Neville couldn't tell who it came from anymore. He couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of Blaise's mouth and body. He let his fingers wander over hard muscles and sharp bones until he reached around to get a firm hold of Blaise's ass, squeezing the soft flesh until Blaise let out a small squeak, jerking against him. Pulling away from Neville's lips Blaise gasped for breath, flexing his fingers in Neville's hair. It was soft and thick; he ran his fingers through it one last time before pulling away. Neville tried to keep a hold on him, drawing him in close before a sly look from Blaise loosened his hold._

_Wide eyed he watched as Blaise sunk to his knees, trailing his hands down Neville's chest to his belt. Another smirk and Blaise ran his fingertips over the bulge in Neville's pants, tugging his belt open and drawing his zipper down. Neville was breathing hard and fast, for a second he wondered if he was hyperventilating. His hands were suspended in midair as he tried to figure out somewhere to put them. He let one of them dangle by his side and cautiously rested the other on Blaise's head, over his hair. Blaise glanced up at him but made no move to remove it as he worked on opening Neville's pants. Neville could feel himself shaking. His body was on fire everywhere that Blaise touched and he was staring at the ceiling to avoid coming from the feeling of warm breathing on his erection. _

_Blaise worked Neville's cock from out of his underwear, running his hand up and down it teasingly. It was decent sized and thick, already red and dripping slightly. Neville let out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and grabbing a hold of Blaise's hair. Blaise lent forward and ran his tongue over the head, drawing it into his mouth to suck on it lightly. Neville's body jerked as his whole world reduced to the head of his dick that was currently buried in Blaise's mouth._

"_Holy shit. Sweet fucking Merlin." He gasped. _

_Blaise kept a hold at the base and worked on trying to get more and more of Neville into his mouth. He rubbed his tongue flat along the underside and swirled it around the head, collecting the salty liquid. Neville's fingers gripped at his skull, following the in-out motion of his head, pushing him in closer and holding him longer. Blaise didn't mind, he enjoyed the heavy weight of Neville in his mouth and the stretching ache of his jaw. He wasn't pushing hard enough to trigger his gag reflex, just far enough for Blaise to feel it pushing at the back of his mouth. Neville was making groaning noises with each suck and the thigh muscles under one of his hands was clenching and unclenching. Blaise began moaning around Neville's girth, sucking harder and rocking his whole body back and forth. He was on fire and his own erection was throbbing in time with his heart beat. Releasing his hold on Neville's thigh he reached down to rub himself through his pants, too far gone to even contemplate unbuttoning himself._

_Neville's movements were becoming sharper as his hips jerked back and forth, barely slipping out of Blaise's mouth before snapping back in. Both Blaise and Neville were moaning and gasping constantly by now, desperate to finish. Neville opened his eyes and looked down, watching his own hand force Blaise's head back and forth, watching himself slide in and out of those soft lips. As if on cue Blaise opened his eyes to glance up at Neville, catching his eyes. With a shuddering gasp Neville buried himself in Blaise's mouth, hunching over as he came hard. Abandoning his own erection Blaise grabbed a hold of Neville's hips, chocking slightly as more of Neville's length was forced into his throat. Holding his hips steady Blaise gulped down the liquid filling his mouth, sucking harshly on the head until it stopped coming and Neville was forced to drag Blaise away from his oversensitive cock. Licking away any excess from his lips Blaise lent his head against Neville's shaking thigh and tearing open his own pants got his own shuddering completion with a few strokes. They stayed like that for a minute, shaking and trying desperately to catch their breath. Blaise pulled back as Neville dropped to his knees, drawing him in for a deep kiss before pressing their foreheads together, content._

In the Gryffindor tower Neville woke with a gasp in wet boxer shirts. Down in the Slytherin dungeons so did Blaise.

For the next few days Blaise and Neville circled each other in an uncertain state. Any eye contact with the other was enough to bring back memories of the mistletoe kiss and subsequent dreams. The only saving grace was that the mistletoe was leaving them alone after their last performance. It happily ignored them, choosing instead to torment those around them. As time passed Neville began to relax, the mistletoe were leaving him alone and no one was teasing him about the kiss which meant Blaise has so far chosen not to humiliate him. If anything, he seemed to be happy about it. Just yesterday he had accidentally caught Blaise's eye and the other boy smiled at him, even blushed slightly. Or at least he thinks he blushed with Blaise it's difficult to tell. Either way Neville spent the rest of the day with his head in the clouds. For a short while everything looked like it was going well. Right up until one of the mistletoe attached itself to Ronald Weasley.

It started as a good day, he and Blaise had done their secret smiling blush thing, his lessons had gone well and he could smell chicken for lunch, his favourite. Then Ron had come into the hall, face bright red, trailing one of the obnoxious plants. It was originally amusing and the embarrassment had worn off for most people. Not Ron though, it never failed to leave him a blushing, stuttering mess. So its, and his, appearance provided endless amusement to the Gryffindor table. They teased him, baiting the mistletoe until it was more or less screaming out to the whole hall. It suggested Ron kiss Hermione, who was sitting on his left, or Harry sitting on his right or Neville across the table. At which point Ron became very indignant and began to yell at its suggestions. Or, more accurately, at the suggestion he should kiss a boy. Neville began to contemplate his plate intently. All the warm fuzzy feelings caused by Blaise were replaced by a cold sinking sensation. The chicken in his stomach felt like it had turned to lead. Ron's complete disgust of same-sex relationships had slipped his mind in the excitement. Now it was back. No one was challenging him, merely watching instead as Ron worked himself into a right state. The mistletoe waited until he stopped to breath before rejecting his complaints. It blew a raspberry at him instead.

"Pffffffffftttttttt. Don't be such a wet blanket. You all whinge so much but Mary Talbett kissed Tiernan King last week and Marcus Brooker said it was the best thing he had ever seen. And a few days ago Neville Longbottom kissed Blaise Zabini, very impressive. 10 out of 10. Maybe you should kiss him, Zabini went all red and dreamy so it must have been good." The mistletoe helpfully suggested. The whole hall fell silent. Neville froze in his seat. He had been outed to the entire school. Not only outed, they also now knew about his little adventure with Blaise. Ron was staring at him in shock. Everyone was staring at him. Neville glanced at the Slytherin table, Blaise was sitting rigidly in the middle under the horrified glared of his housemates.

"WHAT?" Ron screamed.

"What? Oh yes, in the corridor near the library. It took a lot of coaxing but once they got started, well. Much like…"

Ron cut the mistletoe off.

"WHAT IN BLOODY MERLIN'S NAME IS GOING ON? ZABINI? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NEVILLE?!"

Ron had gone an alarming puce colour. Neville stared, uncertain how he was supposed to respond. The hall was jabbering excitedly. Neville could only make tentative noises. Before Ron could continue his rant Hermione and Harry each grabbed an arm and marched him out of the hall. Neville waited for a moment, muscles tensed under the combined gaze of the school. With one brief sympathetic glance at Blaise, which the other boy ignored, Neville also fled. He had two more classes to survive before he would be forced to face the other Gryffindors again. Oh what fun.


End file.
